


A Deep Drink

by Mousieta



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Dense Characters, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, M/M, Not Manga Compliant, Older Ichigo, Pining, Post Series, Romance, Slice of Life, graduate student ichigo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26742652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mousieta/pseuds/Mousieta
Summary: Ichigo is a grad student who needs help writing his thesis. And Kisuke.... well no one has ever asked Kisuke what he needs. Does he even know? Does it matter?
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 20
Kudos: 163





	A Deep Drink

**Author's Note:**

> This is the little fic that could. Started as plotless nonsense and remains plotless nonsense. But the best kind of nonsense: the fluffy kind. At least, the most fluff I'm capable of. Originally intended to be part of UraIchi week, life got in the way. Majorly got in the way. 
> 
> Whatever plans I'd originally had for this are lost to the whims of this cursed year. So it is what it is. Largely unbeta'ed and lightly edited, so be kind.
> 
> Also, this is set in the same 'verse as my Seduction of the Gotei 13 series and accepts that Kyoraku and Ukitake have a thing for seducing any and everyone. This could be considered a companion piece to [ Oasis ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20671199)

“I need your help.” The shock of the voice sent Kisuke’s heart tripping as his chin slipped off his hand, mid-afternoon lethargy evaporating.

Ichigo stood in the door of the shop, hair long, shaggy and pulled up into a bun, slightly too-large shirt rumpled, the top buttons undone, a backpack slung over one shoulder. 

He’d grown, Kisuke noted. And changed. He tried to calculate how long it’d been since he’d seen him last. 

“Come in.” Kisuke waved to the stool he kept beside the counter. “Long time no see.” He reached into the bin by the register and pulled out a candy bar, setting it down in front of Ichigo as he settled in, the pack thudding to the floor. “So what kind of help do you need?”

Ichigo saw the bar and brightened, unwrapping it greedily and inhaling half of it. “I nee hep shtutying.”

“Studying?” Kisuke laughed, shocked. “How can  _ you _ need help studying?” Last he'd heard Ichigo was in graduate school, an achievement which, Kisuke was pretty sure would have required  _ some  _ studying.

Ichigo opened his mouth to try and explain then waved. A mouth full of chocolate and caramel made it hard to speak so Kisuke waited as he chewed, ostensibly cleaning the counter.

Mental calculations done, he realized he couldn't remember the last time he’d seen Ichigo. It  _ had _ been a long time, not just a turn of phrase. Years, maybe?

He found he could trace the passage of time on Ichigo’s face, such a human thing. It was leaner, now, stronger definition of jaw; rougher, with delicate whispers of lines foreshadowed on the skin around his mouth. 

Finally, Ichigo’s face had caught up with his eyes. Eyes that had seen as much as any centuries-old Captain of the Seireitie. 

“So what,” Kisuke said as Ichigo finally swallowed, “does a doctoral candidate need with my study help?”

Ichigo looked at him, abashed. “Well - I’ve never actually had to do it before.”

Kisuke blinked. 

“What?! You’re -  _ how  _ \- you graduated top of your class! University, graduate school-” he paused, mind incapable of wrapping around the words he was about to say. “And you don’t know how to study?”

Ichigo shrugged and looked like he was contemplating another bite. “Never had to.” 

“Never-had-” Kisuke pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a breath. “Ok.” 

It made a bizarre kind of sense, after all. Ichigo was the kid who got thrown into a pit of death with no preparation or explanation and fought his way out alive. Possibly no one alive could understand Ichigo’s brand of hard-headed genius more than the man that had thrown him down into that pit. The first of many pits, actually. 

If anyone could stubborn himself to effortless success - well Ichigo had already done that a dozen times over. 

Still.

“You don’t know how to study?” Kisuke whined. 

Ichigo chuckled, absently tucking a stray strand of orange hair behind an ear. “Yeah, and its like, really starting to kick my ass and I don’t want to fail out when I’ve come so far so-” he met Kisuke’s eyes- “I figure- you’re smart-”

“Oh thanks,” Kisuke muttered. 

Ichigo grinned at him, “no problem.”

Kisuke rolled his eyes. 

“So yeah,” Ichigo continued, “you’re smart, and you’re always researching something. I figured you could give me some pointers?” He shoved the rest of the candy bar into his mouth. “Wacha tink?”

“Ururu!” Kisuke shouted and her head popped around the front door. “Mind the shop?” She nodded and stepped in as Kisuke stood. “Come on, kid.” 

With a huffed laugh, Ichigo slid off the stool and stood, following him. As they turned towards the rooms behind the shop Kisuke was struck - Ichigo towering over him - at how much of a kid Ichigo was not. 

“You do realize,” Kisuke said as they settled in front of the low table in his bedroom that he often used for study, “that I’ve never been to a university like they have here? The Academy is different.”

Ichigo sat, criss crossed his legs and gave Kisuke a blank stare. 

Kisuke rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how things work in your  _ Graduate _ school.” 

“Yeah but -” Ichigo ran a hand through his hair - “you’re always back here pouring over books and scribbling away. You’re a nerd.”

“You  _ do _ want me to help you, right?”

“No!” Ichigo panicked. “I mean yes, but no!” His words fell over themselves in a rush of appeasement. “I mean nerd in a good way. You know, like how you know how to read and put information together and making notes about it. You’re good at that, and that’s what I need! I need to be a nerd.”

“Reading and taking notes?” he honed in on what Ichigo said he needed. It was so very basic that he found himself floundering. 

“Yeah.” Ichigo hazarded a tentative grin as he began pulling books from his pack, large, dusty tomes. “See-” he plopped a crips blue notebook down on top of the books. “I even got this for note taking.” He beamed, looking for all the world like a puppy who managed to piddle outside instead of on the rug. He ruffled the pages and they stuck together, the notebook likely never opened since it had been bound. 

“Uh-”

“Oh, wait!” Ichigo continued, rummaging a bit more in his pack. “Also bought these.” He pulled his fist out and a rain of pens, highlighters, sticky notes and paperclips fell in a trickle over the table. “They seemed important.”

“What are you studying again?” Kisuke asked to stop himself from groaning. 

“Traditional Japanese Folktales.” Ichigo’s pride doubled and it was so much it was almost painful for Kisuke to see.

“That’s-” incredibly specific, he thought but did not say.

“Figure it could help - maybe - with understanding the hollows, soul society, all of that.”

Kisuke didn’t have the heart to tell him that anything on that topic from the world of the living was likely so wrong as to be embarrassing and he would be better served plundering the library of the 13 Court Guard Squads if that was what he wanted to learn. 

“I know it’s almost all inaccurate,” Ichigo said and Kisuke’s mind stuttered. He focused his attention on Ichigo. Mind reading was impossible and Ichigo had never been… the most perceptive. 

“Figured that out in undergrad,” Ichigo continued. “Still, there are nuggets here and there and the outside perspective can be illuminating if imprecise.”

It was a reasonable enough argument. Kisuke sat down across from him and poked at the mess it had taken Ichigo seconds to make. 

Ichigo preened. “See already getting nice and wordy.”

“Ok, then, all of this-” Kisuke gestured at the mess of his table questioningly.

“Advisor said I should start with a literature review?”

“I don’t know what that is but - guessing here - it would be useful -” he broke off, “you’re doing research right?”

Ichigo nodded. 

“It would be useful to review what information is out there and focus on what areas need more developed study?”

“Yes!” Ichigo pointed at him exuberantly. “That.”

“Ok so,” Kisuke paused not sure where to go next. 

“How do I do that?”

“You… read? You do know how to do  _ that _ at least.”

Ichigo looked away, flushing red. “Uh, actually.”

Kisuke dropped the paper clip he’d been fiddling with. “Ichigo Kurosaki!”

Ichigo brought his hands up. “A joke! A joke, I’m joking! I can read I promise! Though-” he opened the topmost book and fluttered through some pages. “Some of these symbols are a bit difficult, which is the  _ other  _ reason I came to you.”

Kisuke looked at the pages fluttering by, stopping one with his fingers. Together they scanned the page. It was a more archaic Japanese than what Ichigo would be familiar with, more esoteric, a bit like the books Kisuke had studied from, himself, ages ago.

The shape of Kisuke’s work finally revealed itself. “Alright”

He spent the rest of the evening flipping through the volumes and giving Ichigo basic pointers in how to read critically, analyzing as he went and highlighting important information. “But don’t highlight in these books! Also, don’t you want to write this process down?” 

“Nah, I’m good.”

“But-” Kisuke was at a loss. “No, seriously, you should write important stuff down. How did you even make it this far?” Kisuke despaired. 

Ichigo shrugged. “I just showed up and listened.”

Truely, an idiot savant. 

Still - he had to grant that Ichigo  _ was  _ a good listener and in sword work he only had to be shown a thing once before he understood it and implementing it a couple of times had him making connections even Kisuke hadn’t noticed.  _ Idiot boy. _

After a few hours Ururu appeared, fruit laden tray in her hands. “I’ve closed up the shop,” she said. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Sure!” Ichigo said with a grin. 

For some reason Kisuke found that unsettling. 

* * *

Kisuke groaned as he made his way up from the study chamber, his body aching in various places, and gave himself a mental kick for his perfectionism. There really was no reason a Gigai should suffer aches and pains this bad. None. 

He made a mental note to revise that in his next iteration. But, as he’d made that note several times in his exile, it evaporated as soon as it was thought. 

The sunlight streaming in to his room was coming from the west windows and he blinked. Afternoon, his mind registered. Odd. He hadn’t thought he’d been down there that long. He stifled a yawn and shrugged out of his clothes. A bath was an excellent idea, a credit to his genius. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Kisuke yelped and spun around, reaching to grab at his top and only managing to snag a sleeve on its way down. “Ichigo!”

Ichigo shot him a sunny half-grin as he chewed. He was sitting at Kisuke’s low table, books and papers spread over every inch and stacked precariously on the floor beside him. 

“What are you doing here?” Kisuke doesn’t see him for years and now twice in one week. 

“Oh-” Ichigo waved his chopsticks, “just studying - er - researching.” The food perched precariously in his chopsticks was shoved into his mouth. 

“Here?”

Ichigo resumed reading and gave an offhand shrug. “You been down there a while they said.” He turned a page with his free hand, the other sending the chopsticks out for another bite. 

Kisuke narrowed his eyes. “Are - are you eating my dinner?” The tray that Ururu usually set out was perched at the top of a stack of books and Ichigo had already demolished half of it.

“It was just laying here.” Ichigo took another bite. “Figure ‘might ash well.”

“Did you always talk with your mouth full?”

Ichigo looked up at him flatly. “You gonna take a shower or what?”

Kisuke sighed, rolled his eyes and walked off to the bathroom, grabbing a dumpling, though, from Ichigo’s chopsticks as he passed. His indignant squawk was incredibly satisfying. 

When Kisuke emerged, Ichigo was still there, but sprawled out on his back, his pack as a pillow, ankle crossed over a bent knee and a book in his hands. 

“So, you’re just gonna hang out, is it?” Kisuke asked. 

Ichigo didn’t answer. Instead he flipped the book and held it up. “What’s this one here?” A long, slender finger pressed right beside a symbol. 

Kisuke stepped closer and bent to see the word. “Uh, spring, I think. Early spring.” 

Ichigo hummed and resumed reading. Kisuke knelt and began to neaten the stacks of books and arrange the papers into some semblance of order. 

“Oh!” Ichigo half sat, looking at the papers in Kisuke’s hands. “That one-” he pointed with his socked toe at one of the sheets half out of the stack. “That one’s for you.”

Kisuke pulled it out, a list of archaic words with what appeared to be an attempt at translations. Some of them were fairly close, he noted. “What are these?”

“I wrote down the ones I didn’t know. Took a stab at translating but figured you probably know them.”

“Of course I know them,” Kisuke huffed. “You know you could probably just look them up.”

“Easier to ask.” He rolled over onto his stomach, legs bent at the knees, feet waving slowly through the hair. 

Kisuke rolled his eyes.  _ Easier to ask _ . He looked down at the list. Some of them were familiar but no meaning sprung to mind. “Damn it,” he muttered and stalked into his other room where most of his books lived. He grabbed a few and returned, shoving over a pile of Ichigo’s mess to make room for himself. 

Everything else forgotten, he lost himself in tracking down the symbols. Sure, he could just give a direct translation but connotation meant so much. Sometimes it was everything. 

It was dark before he looked up to find Ichigo snoring softly, his book propped open over the lower half of his chest. 

“Idiot,” Kisuke said but he chuckled and smiled. 

Two trays sat on the floor beside their table. Ururu must have come in with a second dinner tray at some point. The clock beside his bed said 11. 

“Ichigo,” Kisuke said softly. “Iiichigo,” he repeated when that didn’t work. “Ichigo!” He kicked out under the table and nailed Ichigo in the side. 

Ichigo jerked up, fists raised. “Wha-who-what?!” 

“Eat something.” Kisuke nodded towards the tray and reached for the closest one, pulling it into his lap and setting to. 

Ichigo yawned and scratched his head then rolled over to sit up. 

“Tired?” Kisuke teased. 

“Look, old man-” the end of Ichigo’s words were swallowed in a yawn, “just because you’re old and don’t need any sleep doesn’t mean no one else does.” He grabbed his tray and held the chopsticks in his fists, pointing them at Kisuke. “I’m a growing boy. I need my rest.”

“I didn’t realize humans still grew at twenty-five.” He took a guess. 

“Seven,” Ichigo corrected.

“Whatever, I finished the words you wanted.”

“Oh-” Ichigo brightened and Kisuke had to choke back a giggle. His hair was sticking out in every which direction, sleep instantly gone in his bright-eyed excitement. “Yes!” He picked up the list with Kisuke’s detailed translation notes scribbled down beside each word. “Thanks, I take back the old man bit.”

He read through the list as they ate and Kisuke let his mind drift away to his own research. He only came to when he realized Ichigo was staring at him.

“Huwhut?” Kisuke racked his brain to see if it could provide what Ichigo had just said. 

“I said I’m gonna have to sneak into my dad’s as I missed the last train back.”

“Oh.” Kisuke looked around the room. “You can crash here if you want?” Surely he could scrape together some blankets and he only needed the one pillow for all that Ururu insisted on always putting two on his bed. 

“You sure?”

Kisuke nodded and then gestured for Ichigo to help him clean up. 

That night he learned that Ichigo muttered nonsense to himself in his sleep, voice tender and light.

* * *

A few days later Ichigo was back, and then he was there again for a weekend. The next week it was 3 days, the week after 4. 

“Don’t you have an apartment?” Kisuke asked when he came up from his research to the, now familiar, sight of Ichigo sprawled on his floor amidst a pile of books and papers. Did the boy keep nothing tidy?

“Yeah, its a few blocks from the school, but, eh.” A long finger landed atop a note-filled sheet and began scooching it along the floor towards Kisuke. 

“Eh?” Kisuke said, indulgently, as he sat cross-legged on the floor and swiped the page Ichigo had been pushing. Another list of translations. He scanned through them, half listening as Ichigo spoke. 

“My brain seems to work better in this room. And it’s just easier to be here if I have to ask you questions.” 

“Cellphone?” Kisuke said absently. A few of Ichigo’s attempted translations were, again, remarkably insightful, but as always a handful were just atrocious. He stood. 

“It’s easier in person.”

“But isn’t it-” he scanned through his shelves and pulled out the book he needed - “an hour away.”

“I like reading on the train. Gives me plenty of time to just sit and get through this.” He raised the book in his hands and gave a wave. 

“So you’re just going to be here every day?”

Ichigo gave a small nod and turned a page.

“Alright, I guess.” 

Ichigo gave a self-satisfied huff and kept reading. Kisuke sat at the table and began to flip through the book. 

“I could get you your own desk.” 

“Nah, don’t like desks.” Ichigo rolled over to lay on his stomach, book flat on the ground. “This is fine.”

Kisuke paused to survey the mess of his room. Ichigo felt his judgement and met his gaze. “I clean up every time!” It was true, he did clean up every time he came over. 

Kisuke rolled his eyes. “At least finish up in time to go to your dad’s.” 

“The floor isn’t so bad." He furrowed his brows mischievously "Though the bed  _ is  _ big enough for two.” Kisuke shot him a look and Ichigo replied by making an innocent face. “Just sayin'.” 

“You talk in your sleep.”

“Fine.” Ichigo rolled onto his side to turn his back to Kisuke. “I’ll leave in time to make it to my dad’s.”

Ichigo had to be uncomfortable where he lay. The floor was not soft and his head was twisting his neck into an awkward angle. Returning to his reading, Kisuke stretched a hand towards his bed and grabbed one of his pillows, chunking it in Ichigo’s direction. There was a muffled yelp and some reshuffling before Ichigo muttered, “thanks.”

Kisuke hummed, lost in translation. 

* * *

Kisuke sat straight up from a restless half-sleep, body tense, tingling. Ichigo’s soft snores coming from where he slept on the floor at the foot of Kisuke’s bed because, of course, they’d lost track of time again. But it wasn’t Ichigo’s low rumble that had pulled him up.

“Damn,” he cursed softly as he threw back the blankets and stepped onto the warm floor. The signature of a hollow pulled at the edge of his senses. 

It happened occasionally, though not  _ that _ commonly, now-a-days. Normally, he could ignore it but he’d sent Zennosuke back to the Soul Society earlier for a couple days of leave. That would usually require a replacement to come through to cover his assignment but Jushiro had called in a favor and Kisuke had assured them he could watch things for a couple nights. 

Which is why he was up and slipping out of his Gigai as silently as possible in middle of the night (no need to wake Ichigo). 

He hadn’t, honestly, expected any trouble which is why he’d agreed to the arrangement in the first place. 

“Stupid,” he grumbled as he lifted his cane, the familiar feel of Benihime pulsing in his hand. He sighed. He did, after all, still have his zanpakuto. He gave it a squeeze, feeling its comforting weight. 

Silently, he slid open his door and slipped through the sleeping house into the night. 

  
  


The hollow was large, four-legged and incredibly powerful. Kisuke flexed his spiritual power around it, teasing out the measure of its strength. It felt - honestly it felt like it should be a menos, which was a bit troubling. Hueco Mundo had been quiet, self-isolated, for the better part of a decade. 

He ignored the hollow’s meaningless taunts, moving quickly to attack, rapid thrusts and jabs, reaching for the hollow. Kisuke didn’t intend any to land. Like with the spiritual press, this was just taking stock of his enemy. 

It was fast. 

Damn. 

“Hey, old man!” Ichigo’s voice rang out in the air overhead. He looked up and watched Ichigo, vaulting over him, land squarely on the Hollow’s back. It grunted and flailed, trying to buck him off but Ichigo had buried his zanpakuto deep between its shoulders when he landed. 

The hollow roared, frenzied, mocking gone as it tried to get Ichigo off. He had the audacity to laugh, a cocky sound that brought an answering smile to Kisuke’s lips. 

Kisuke took a few swipes at the hollow’s closest legs, stamping and thrashing the ground. “What are you doing here?” he shouted over the echoing howls. 

Ichigo wrenched his zanpakuto up then flipped backwards, gracefully soaring overhead to land behind the hollow. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun!”

He darted in, attacking the hind legs while Kisuke continued his frontal attack. 

“This exciting enough for you, then?” 

“Eh, beggars and choosers.”

“Only you, kid.” 

“Watch it!”

Lost in the banter, Kisuke had almost missed a thrust from a horned head. Almost. With a joint push of spiritual pressure and sword, he parried then danced backwards. 

The beast had recovered from Ichigo’s initial attack and had taken stock, apparently. Despite the many wounds, it was able to focus enough to strike out, a calculating move.

Kisuke grunted as he tucked into a dodge that ended in a roll. It was smart, figures.

While he contended with the head, he caught glimpses of Ichigo spiraling around as the hollow’s spiked tail sought an opening. 

He was fairly certain it had been years since Ichigo had fought a hollow. His new home was fairly well guarded by Soul Reaper patrols and he couldn’t remember the last time Ichigo’d been in the Soul Society. Still, he moved like water, gracefully dodging, parrying, moving in to attack. Each press punctuated by an injured howl from the hollow. 

Kisuke gave himself a mental shake as he, again, just narrowly missed being gored. He wouldn’t be able to focus on staying alive if he kept watching Ichigo.  _ Stupid _ . 

Still, his long orange hair was a beacon that pulled at his gaze. He tried, desperately, to focus on his defense, at least. 

_ Had Ichigo always been this breathtaking in battle?  _ Surely this would have been something Kisuke remembered. 

“Kisuke!” Ichigo cried out as he tumbled towards him. 

Kisuke stumbled and time seemed to slow down. Ichigo shoved him aside, an enormous tusk thrusting into the air where he’d been standing. He watched, in horror, as the tusk pressed into Ichigo’s side. 

Kisuke’s heart froze in his chest but his body continued moving, faster than thought, training thinking for him. Two quick slices in lightning succession into the opening Ichigo sacrificed for. The hollow groaned, stumbled, and Kisuke pressed in, eliminating it with a press from his zanpakuto. Still a soul reaper after all.

“Good job, clogs,” Ichigo managed but his face was pale, his body limp, his spiritual pressure on a soul-sucking ebb that seemed it would never end, sending Kisuke into a raving terror. But he had training for this, too. 

“Doin’ ok there, kid?” he managed to quip despite the angry words of recrimination ricocheting in his mind. 

Ichigo gave him a wan smile. “Not a kid,” he said then collapsed into a heap. 

Kisuke swooped down to pick him up, catching him moments before he hit the ground. 

_ You bloody idiot, _ he thought in the safety of his own mind.  _ Rash, foolhardy, arrogant, stupid, idiotic fucking moron.  _ He honestly could not say which of them he was ripping apart. 

He kept up the mental abuse for the few blocks it took him to get home and to get Ichigo back into his body. He stretched him out on the floor and took stock of the injuries. 

Ichigo wasn’t actually in too bad of shape, he realized with a grateful sigh. If Ichigo’s power could be applied to the healing he’d be up by mid-morning tomorrow. But, still, his power ebbed. 

Kisuke was no healer but he knew a bit so he settled beside Ichigo and did the little he could. Slowly, he felt Ichigo’s power finally peak, crest, then crash back down over them. Kisuke hunched down, sagging with exhaustion - and relief. 

“Stupid kid,” he said aloud.  _ He’s not really a kid anymore.  _ “Shut up,” he muttered and he fought to stand. He looked down at Ichigo, seeming to sleep peacefully, face smooth but not as young as it once was. The light of the moon spilled in from his window, stretching to lay over the planes of his jaw, the lines of his chest, robe just barely parted.

“Stupid kid,” he repeated and no one was around to hear his tone, shaped like a gentle caress. 

There would be no more sleep for him tonight, he knew. So he turned and descended down to his study chamber.

He went straight to his lab for a stash of notes he never touched. 

Because the topic was impossible. 

Because nothing in this box had solutions. 

Because smashing his brain bloody against the unsolvable was just what he needed right then.

* * *

Kisuke slumped in the stool behind the shop counter, mid afternoon, hating everything. He’d spent several hours in his lab before, bleary eyed and head aching, he’d crawled back into bed to see if he could snatch a bit more rest (after a quick, reassuring check that Ichigo was okay). 

But despite his body screaming for sleep all he’d been able to do was to toss and turn listening to the sound of Ichigo breathing (thankfully, healthy and even but still constantly  _ there _ ). 

There was nothing for it but to have Ichigo sleep in his room, he reasoned, as he had almost weekly since Ichigo’d become a constant presence in his home. Promises or no, Kisuke had been smart enough, after a month, to recognize that this was going to be a common thing. He just hadn’t realized how much of a problem the arrangement would be. 

Kisuke’s room was the only place for Ichigo, now. The empty room Renji, and Chad, and Ichigo himself (come to think of it) had used from time to time had been taken over by Jinta a few years ago; the day Tessai had come in and declared it just not right for him and Ururu to still be sharing anymore. Not that she had complained. She never did that. But the sharp line of her compressed lips and the hardness of her stare whenever she emerged from their room in the mornings had said enough. 

The poor girl had suffered sharing a room with child Jinta. Forcing her to share with teenage Jinta was just cruel. No, Kisuke had acknowledged Tessai was right back then and he admitted he was  _ still  _ right. 

Despite that, he contemplated shoving Jinta back in with Ururu just so he didn’t have to listen to Ichigo rustle under the sheets whenever he stayed over. 

It had been a good decision at the time to give Jinta the small spare room. But now-

Now Ichigo with his terrible sense of time, Ichigo with his constant lazing around, Ichigo with his tiny mumbled words, soft sighs and gentle groans in the middle of the night, had decided that the only place to study and thus the only way to finish his Thesis, the culmination of years of effort, was to basically live at Kisuke’s. Which meant sleeping at Kisuke’s. At the foot of his bed. Making Kisuke's sleep an anxious affair even when Ichigo wasn't injured. 

And now, sleep was an impossibility.

He wondered if he could make Ichigo sleep behind the shop counter-

No, that was almost as cruel as making Ururu share with Jinta again. He sighed and rested his head on the counter, cursing Ichigo and his many flaws. Kisuke was just going to have to be nice and accept that the bit of the floor at the foot of the bed was Ichigo’s for the foreseeable future. 

“ _ You know, the bed is big enough for two. _ ” His mind provided the memory of Ichigo that first night, looking at Kisuke’s wide bed. He shivered. No, they could  _ not _ share. 

Ichigo could have the floor where he had a mat. And a blanket. And a pillow!

He tried to convince himself he was annoyed even as he ignored the fact that half the time Ichigo stayed over (actually almost every time but what’s the use of counting) was because they’d gotten caught up in conversation. 

“Not my fault Ichigo has an interesting research topic,” Kisuke said. 

“What was that?” Tessai asked as he swept. 

Kisuke startled and straightened in his seat. “Oh, nothing, just tired.”

“Ichigo keep you up last night?”

Kisuke flushed hot. The words were said innocently and Tessai’s face was a picture of serene indifference but Kisuke could  _ hear _ the implication. 

“With his snoring,” Tessai added flatly into the pregnant pause of Kisuke’s indignation. 

“It got late!” he said defensively. “We were studying and it was easier to let him sleep here and I am not used to having people sleep in the same room!”

Tessai just hummed and continued sweeping. “Been happening a bit lately, though.”

“Theses take a while to write!” Kisuke hopped off his stool and started towards the back of the shop. There was inventory to stock. 

“Indeed they do,” Tessai said to his back. 

It took everything in Kisuke not to turn around and zap him with a bit of Kido. 

“I’ll have you know,” he huffed as he returned, laden with boxes, “that we were up late last night because we were fighting a hollow.” He dropped the boxes, satisfied with the loud, indignant thud they gave as they hit the counter. 

Tessai just looked at him with raised brows, then turned to find the dust pan. 

“Oh shut up,” Kisuke said, then began digging through the boxes. “Go check on Ichigo healing up in my room if you don’t believe me.”

“What happened to Ichigo?” The playfulness was gone, replaced by concern as Tessai set the broom down and rushed towards the stairs.

“Nothing, just a stab wound,” Kisuke said. “He’ll be fine in a few hours, a day tops.”

Tessai grunted and took the stairs up two at a time. Kisuke planted himself firmly on the stool and began pulling items out of the boxes, refusing to follow. 

* * *

Kisuke shot out his arm, flat palm out, timing the surge of his Spiritual Power to peak at the precise moment of impact. Ichigo’s face flashed in a grimace at the hit, and a moment later his body collapsed, his spirit's form solidifying, instinctively clad in the black of a Soul Reaper. Tessai would come collect Ichigo's body in a few minutes. 

The familiar wave of Ichigo’s Spiritual Pressure crashed over Kisuke and he felt his knees want to give way. He’d almost forgotten the shear magnitude of Ichigo’s strength when it was left to just unfurl this way, no focus, just washing over everything around him. 

“Still can’t control it like this, can you?” he teased. 

Abashed, Ichigo looked away as he stood. “No,” he admitted. “It’s easier in my body but at this point I think I’ve given up.” He gave a sarcastic half-smile. “At least I can feel what it’s doing, now.” 

As Ichigo’s essence ebbed and flowed around him, Kisuke had to acknowledge his point. He took a moment - ostensibly to ready himself to open the Senkaimon - to tease out the flavor of Ichigo’s power. 

It was so different than it had been all those years ago. A decade? That couldn’t be true; couldn’t be that long. 

Understandably, so much had changed about him. Circumstances had reshaped the texture of Ichigo’s power. But there, underneath it all, he could still sense the overwhelming  _ something _ that was Ichigo, alone. 

He realized his heart was thundering in his chest and he shifted his shoulders. Shrugging off an unnamable discomfort. 

“Alright,” he said with a subtle clearing of his throat, “let’s go.” The air shimmered and shifted, the familiar doors appearing then opening. “Ready?”

Ichigo looked at him, jaw set, and gave a grunt and head nod. Kisuke gave him a smirk and hopped into the Senkaimon. 

“So,” he asked as they ran through the darkness towards the light that was the Soul Society, “how are you going to pass off what you find at the Soul Reaper Library?”

“I’m using it more to provide perspective,” Ichigo said, voice steady and breath even. “I probably won’t source anything directly for the paper itself.” 

“Makes sense.” Kisuke racked his brain for other topics of conversation. But the trip was short, only a few minutes and they were crossing over the grass outside just inside one of the Seireitei’s gates. 

They jogged then slowed to a walk once they arrived at the path that led deeper into the Seireitei. 

Kisuke’s mind continued wandering, trying to find something not Ichigo’s thesis for them to talk about. Surely they’d had things to talk about before. But as he thought back, all they ever really did was train and talk about training, and Soul Society politics. 

_ Why do you need to talk? _ He asked himself.  _ For that matter, why are you even here? _

He could have sent Ichigo on his own to research. He was well known and respected here, he didn’t need a minder. And his report on the hollow attacks (there'd been a couple more, each remarkably intelligent and powerful) could probably be given verbally via spirit phone.

“I’ll help get into the restricted sections,” he said aloud. 

“Oh, yeah? Thanks!” Ichigo grinned at him. 

Kisuke blinked, not realizing he’d spoken aloud. “Oh, yeah, it’ll help. I can even, probably, get you pointed in the right direction.” He tacked on an even better excuse. “Then I can meet up with a few of the Captains to talk about those hollows.” 

Ichigo nodded. “You know, you didn’t really have to help me this much. I just expected some general pointers but- well - I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” 

His voice was so earnest and sincere. Kisuke flushed hot and the ground became intensely fascinating. “Yeah, don’t mention it. I kinda want to see what you dig up anyways.”

Ichigo laughed. “Always the nerd.” The words were teasing but there was a soft undercurrent to his tone that sent Kisuke’s stomach into somersaults. 

“Yeah, well, I’m the nerd you need right now,” he quipped. The words hit a sharp truth that pierced him, and he nearly tripped over his own feet, but steadied himself in time. Which was a shame, because the sheer audacity of his words had him wishing he’d fallen right into the ground to disappear for eternity. 

But Ichigo just laughed again. “Apparently.”

“So,” Ichigo said after a few blocks. “You never really told me what happened.”

“What happened?”

“Well I know you were once a Captain. That’s kind of a big deal. But now you aren’t and you live out there-” he gave a wave. “I know it has to do with Aizen but you’ve never told me all of it.” 

“Oh,” Kisuke said, taken aback. He never had, actually told the full story to anyone, he realized. He’d lived it but had never actually put all of it into words, all at once. It was remarkably easy to do so. He wondered if it was because Ichigo was the one beside him, listening and nodding, muttering little words of assent as the story went. 

When his voice stumbled as he described what it was like to see the Visored and think they were dead, there was a deep comfort in the warm hand Ichigo pressed onto his shoulder. 

There was a satisfying vindication in the hard set of his jaw and the tightened grip on his Zanpakuto when Kisuke recounted the moment Aizen stepped into the meadow where Shinji, Hiyori, Lisa, and all the rest lay as if dead. 

“So, that’s how you wound up living with Tessai,” he said as he recounted the moment they were exiled. 

Kisuke couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what you got out of all of that?”

Ichigo laughed with him then shrugged. “I know how the rest of the story ends, so.” He looked askance at him. “And I’d heard parts of all of that before. Just parts. But could never quite get how you and Tessai wound up together.”

“We’re not  _ together!” _ Kisuke blinked at his own vehemence. It was true but - 

“Oh,” Ichigo rushed to cut in, “oh I know, I didn’t mean  _ together _ together, not like that, like-”

He stood, awkwardly, hand scratching at his head. 

Kisuke forced a chuckle. “No it’s ok, sorry.” 

They resumed walking. “So how about Jinta and Ururu, and how does Yoruichi turn into a cat?”

“Ah,” Kisuke said, grateful for the change of subject executed with all of Ichigo’s lack of tact. “I can tell you those another time.”

“That would be fun!” And Ichigo was so eager it was almost enough to convince Kisuke that Ichigo meant it. How long had it been, he wondered, since someone had actually taken an interest in Kisuke’s life instead of just needing his research. 

Probably an eternity because he couldn’t remember it having ever happened.

“Ok, it’s a promise.” 

Ichigo’s smile pierced him and he turned, unwilling to confront the feelings stirring in him. “Well, we’re here.” They looked up, the Library for the Academy sprawling over them. “Come on, I’ll show you where to go.” 

Kisuke hung around for a bit, after introducing Ichigo to the librarians and leading him to the right section, just wandering up and down the aisles. One of the hardest parts of exile had been being locked out of the library for so long. He’d forgotten how it smelled, how it felt to exist amidst so much knowledge. 

He pulled out a scroll, its paper white and crisp. Hm, someone was continuing his officially logged research on Gigais. He took a mental note of the name and scanned through the essay. He’d have to track them down at some point and compare research. 

“Hey, still here?” Ichigo came around the corner of the shelf, arms laden. “I’m probably going to be a while.”

“I can see that, you need help?”

Ichigo shook his head. “I can find you later? Are you going to be in Squad 1 barracks?”

Kisuke nodded then remembered he was supposed to be reporting on the hollow to the captains. “Oh, right, yeah, well depending on how long it takes, if you don’t find me there, I’ll wait for you at the bar in front of Squad 13? I need to check in with Captain Ukitake as well.”

Ichigo gave him another sunny grin, one that he could barely look at, then turned towards the reading tables. Kisuke did  _ not _ run out of the library but his walk was… decidedly brisk. 

  
  


He was a couple drinks in at the bar, Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku sitting across from him, lecherously eying the newest crop of Lieutenants celebrating with them. Well, Kyoraku was leering, Ukitake merely shifted his hair to cover the pinkened blush of his ears. 

Kisuke knew better, though, his past experience providing ample evidence; Kyoraku may be the more overt but there was a reason Ukitake was his perfect match. His mind decided to add some visceral memories of his own time with the pair as evidence, and a surge of heat raced up his spine and flushed his cheeks. A large bowl of alcohol served to hide his blush as he fought his thoughts down.

Just as he lowered his cup a silhouette darkened the entrance to the bar. 

“Ichigo!” Kyoruaku announced, and vigorously waved him over. 

Ichigo settled between the two captains, grin wide and earnest. Ukitake smoothly poured a bowl for him and Kyoraku pressed him into a toast. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you in the Seireitei,” Kyoraku said once Ichigo’d drained his bowl. 

“Yeah, things have been mostly quiet-” Ichigo looked directly across the table to Kisuke, a hint of worry to his brows. “Mostly.”

“Ah, yeah,” Kyoraku said. A black cat jumped up into the window beside their table and Kisuke eyed her. 

Ukitake followed him smoothly, “we heard about your run in with the hollows from Urahara’s report. It  _ is _ concerning.”

Ichigo nodded, fingers toying with his bowl. “Haven’t run up against any that strong in a while.”

“It  _ was _ strange,” Kisuke agreed. His heart gave a double thud as the image of Ichigo injured in his arms flashed again. There was a gentle pat at his knee and he looked out to see the cat snuggled up against his leg, a protective paw draped over his knee. He suppressed a sigh and gave Yoruichi an affectionate scratch. 

“Well,” Ukitake said, voice soothing and calm as ever, “we have squad 12 on it. I’m sure they’ll provide some insights soon.” He turned to the cat. “Would you like to join us, ma’am?”

But she ignored him to enjoy the pets. Talk shifted to catching up. It had been years - earth years - since Ichigo had been to the seireitei and Kyoraku was a nosy little bitch. 

The drinks flowed and as they did Ichigo grew looser and happier, Kyoraku grew increasingly flirtatious and Ukitake’s attention was focused entirely on Ichigo. Kisuke’s mood darkened with every scandalized giggle from Ichigo’s lips, every gentle touch of Ukitake’s fingers on Ichigo’s forearm, shoulder, leg.

“Ow!” 

Yoruichi glared up at him, unapologetic, with her claws still extended. Kisuke rubbed at the abused flesh of his thigh, assuaging the sharp pain, glaring back at her. She blinked at him, expression bored, then jumped out the window. 

“You ok? Did she nab you?” Ichigo asked.

“My fault, I sat on her tail,” Kisuke lied. “I should probably get going, though.” 

“Oh.” Ichigo looked crestfallen and the expression pierced at Kisuke as sharply as Yoruichi’s claw. 

“Yeah, I want to check in on Squad 12 before these two make me pass out under the table.” 

“Now,” Kyoraky rumbled in a slow drawl, “why would we do a thing like that and ruin all the fun?” 

Ukitake had the decency to blush but Kisuke’s mind short circuited at the implication of Kyoraku’s words. The pair were  _ really _ trying to get the both of them.  _ No, _ Kisuke thought, refusing to follow that train to its station. 

“I really should go see if Squad 12 needs help,” he said, opting to ignore Kyoraku. He turned and fled for the second time that day, an endless loop of his last time (his only time) with Kyoraku and Ukitake replaying in his mind. For added spice, thoughts of what Ichigo was in store for with the pair, now that he’d left, sprinkled themselves in and he felt sick. 

Leaning against the wall to the bar, he tried to center himself by focusing on the gentle night breeze. 

“So we’ve started being an idiot, I see.” Yourichi’s deep voice was a whip flaying his attempts at calm. 

He pushed away from the wall smoothly, turning towards Squad 12’s research facility. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His robe tugged uncomfortably and he yelped as claws dug into his back and arm before Yourichi settled in on his shoulder, her tail flicking back and forth in the corner of his eye.

“Idiot,” she repeated.

“Either explain what you’re talking about, or go play with Soi Fon or something.” He gave another yelp as her paws flexed claws into him again. “Stop that!” She… purred at him! “So you’ve just decided to irritate and claw me to death, huh?”

“So, Ichigo’s gonna have a good night, tonight, huh?”

Kisuke growled and stalked down the dusty roads. Yoruichi humored him for a few blocks. 

“You could have joined them. How long as it been, now?”

Kisuke froze, took in a deep breath then plucked her off his shoulder, biting his lip against the pain. He’d be damned if he gave her the pleasure of any reaction. He firmly set her down then spun on his heel and continued on his way. 

She yoweld after him, “Idiot.” He kept walking. 

There really  _ was _ work he could help with at Squad 12, he repeated to himself the entire way there. 

* * *

“Kisuke, hey!” Ichigo trotted up to the green space they used for opening the Seinkeimon. He looked - Kisuke took a steadying breath. 

Ichigo’s eyes were bright and clear, catching the early morning light and sending it out in bright sparkles. His hair, orange and shaggy, fell loose over his shoulders, hair band left unused at his wrist. The black robes of a Soul Reaper were tied loosely, baring half his chest, as though he’d been half asleep when he put them on and hadn’t cared to fix it once he’d fully awakened. And the skin of his chest was smooth and clear, none of the bites and love bruises blooming where they should have after a night with the two biggest sluts in the Seireitei. 

Ichigo looked fresh and - Kisuke admitted only in the deepest recesses of his mind - beautiful. Well rested and not at all like he’d spent the whole night in lust-filled rutting. 

“So-” he cleared his throat, “good night?”

Ichigo laughed, self-deprecating. “I went to bed shortly after you left, just took a room above the bar.”

“Oh,” Kisuke said, something in him deflating. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think I had the energy for those two last night. I’m getting older ya know. I ain’t 18 anymore.” 

Kisuke froze, brain spluttering. “I-”

Ichigo laughed. “Surely you’ve heard of those two!”

“I - I have - I just hadn’t realize you had too.”

Ichigo clapped a hand to Kisuke’s shoulder. “They had their way with me right after I got my abilities back. A sort of initiation. The old lechers,” he said affectionately. “I half-think they wanted both of us last night but you left and totally cock-blocked that reality.” He gave Kisuke as conspiratorial look. “So have you ever-”

Kisuke stepped away and busied himself with opening the gate back to the living world, Ichigo’s laugh fueling the flames on his cheeks. 

* * *

Kisuke climbed up from the study chamber, eyes burning and stomach grumbling. He really needed to find a better way to keep track of time while he was working. And by better, he meant  _ any  _ way of tracking time. It may be a gigai, but his body still needed regular rest and feeding or it would degrade too quickly and he hated the adjustment period of a new gigai.

Still, the problem of these hollows appearing at such an anomalous rate was frustrating him and he hadn’t had word from Squad 12 since his last report -

“Kurotsuchi says they haven’t had any luck,” Ichigo said as Kisuke walked into his room. He fumbled as his spirit phone came flying at him, managing to pin it between his hand and his thigh. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Ichigo just looked at him, face blank. Kisuke rolled his eyes. Really, he didn’t know why he bothered to ask as this had been going on nearly a year. 

Ichigo was curled up in his usual spot at the low desk, fingers clacking away at his laptop, soft whir of a printer working in the background.

“Hey can you proofread these for me?” A fistfull of papers shot into the air, waving towards Kisuke. 

He sighed but couldn’t stop the gentle upwards tug of his lips. He grabbed the stack and stumbled onto his bed, collapsing onto his back. A pen flew across the room and landed on his nose. 

“For marking.”

“Thanks,” Kisuke deadpanned, “couldn’t have figured that out.” 

He marked pages absently, and just as he finished another stack of papers was dumped on his stomach. Ichigo flopped down beside him, ruffling through the reviewed pages. He plucked the pen from Kisuke’s hands to scribble something in the margins. Kisuke glared at him. 

“If you want me to mark these up I need the pen.” 

Ichigo shoved the pen back at him. “We can share.”

“Honestly,” Kisuke grumped as he took it. “I don’t know how I got roped into writing this with you. I’m not the one that’s in school.”

“You missed a typo-”

“You  _ made _ the typo!” 

“Still.”

“I swear you never get your  _ tsu  _ and  _ shi  _ right. It’s downright pathological.”

Ichigo hummed as he read and Kisuke blinked, realizing he was staring. There were circles under Ichigo's eyes, dark ones, and they were heavy lidded and dull. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Kisuke asked, worry injecting seriousness into his tone. 

Ichigo didn’t stop reading, simply furrowed his brow and gave the ghost of a shrug with the shoulder pressed up against Kisuke. “It’s a Thesis. There is no sleeping.”

  
  


Except, there  _ was  _ sleeping. Somewhere between a fragment sentence and a blurry image, a soft snore came from beside him. When awake Ichigo was always taut with too much energy, but in sleep his face was calm, boyish. It was a face he hadn’t seen in years. He’d forgotten how incredibly young Ichigo could look, soft hair falling over his eyes, smooth curve of his jaw, relaxed. But as he looked, Kisuke could see the fine lines rounding the curve of his lips, bright berry red, like his nickname. 

Strawberry. 

Kisuke loved strawberries. Sharp and tart with a hint of sweetness. So much like Ichigo, he realized. Ichigo’s tongue gave a small swipe of his lip as he grunted and turned, body curling up against Kisuke. 

His heart fluttered and his mind blanked. This was dangerous. These were dangerous thoughts. He tried to chase them away. He needed to wake Ichigo up and send him to his spot on the floor. The mats were  _ right there _ waiting for him. 

Ichigo’s long legs intertwined through his, and an arm came up to drape over Kisuke’s stomach. A sharp nose nuzzled into his shoulder. 

He needed to wake Ichigo up but Kisuke lay there, in the dim light from the bedlamp, lulled by the printer still gently spitting out pages. He felt sleep pull at him but, like all the other things he needed to do, had to do, he ignored it and watched the steady pace of Ichigo’s breathing. 

_ Well, shit, _ he thought.

* * *

“Movie night?” Ichigo asked as he stomped into Kisuke’s living room. 

“Uh-” Kisuke blinked up at him, dumbly and Ichigo smartly answered by picking up a DVD case. 

“It’ll be fun.”

“Don’t you have writing to do?”

“Nah-” Ichigo’s backpack thudded to the ground. “I came just for fun.” He began rummaging through the stack of boxes Kisuke kept in a corner of the room. “I know I saw a TV/DVD combo back here the other day.”

“I’ll get snacks?” Kisuke offered. He made his way to the kitchen, absently stacking food on a tray. He was used to Ichigo being around all the time - well as used to it as he could be. Ichigo was a constant (unsettling) distraction for him. A distraction that was growing with every visit and it was going on months now. Surely Ichigo would be done with his Thesis soon. Surely then he could go back to his life and stop sending Kisuke’s heart into yo-yoing spirals. 

Kisuke had seen Ichigo’s thesis. It was close to done, as far as he could tell. 

But now, Ichigo was here ‘just for fun’. 

Kisuke’s problem was never going away if Ichigo started coming over just to be around. Because his problem  _ was _ Ichigo. 

He was going to have to talk to him. He squared his jaw. And then his shoulders for good measure. 

“So you gonna bring in the snacks, or you just gonna stand there?”

Kisuke startled and realized he was standing in the kitchen, bag of chips in hand, staring at the wall. “Oh, sorry - distracted.”

Ichigo, slouched against the wall gave him a toothy grin. Not  _ quite  _ a leer but it was enough to flutter Kisuke’s stomach. 

Ichigo slid forward to grab the tray Kisuke’d put together, leaning a bit further into Kisuke’s space than absolutely necessary. “What’s on your brain?” he teased. But before Kisuke could do more than gape, Ichigo had turned and sauntered out. 

He sauntered. 

_ This...this is flirting _ , Kisuke admitted to himself. Gobsmacked, he realized it had been going on for a - an uncomfortably long time. 

They were  _ definitely  _ going to need to have a talk. Not that Kisuke wasn’t flattered. He was. But just because he’d been Ichigo’s teacher as a Soul Reaper didn’t mean he was qualified for  _ this _ . Ichigo was just going to have to find another person to practice his skills on. Someone from his University, or one of his friends from town, an acquaintance or something. Someone who could handle the devastation of that heavy lidded gaze without getting tangled in knots. Kisuke didn’t think his heart-

“Are you coming here or what?!” Ichigo shouted from the living room, the sound of the evening news coming in under his words. 

“Sorry!” Kisuke shouted. He grabbed another bag of chips. 

Ichigo was sprawled over two thirds of the small loveseat Kisuke’d jammed against one wall ages ago then forgotten about. Before Kisuke could make it awkward, though, Ichigo shifted, making room, though just enough to leave his leg pressing against Kisuke’s thigh when he settled in. 

“What did you bring?”

“Jackie Chan!” Ichigo beamed, waving the remote control and hitting play. Kisuke was vaguely aware of Jackie Chan. He recognized the name at least. So he sank back into the couch and opened his chips. 

The movie was entertaining enough, he found himself laughing a few times but it was Ichigo’s laugh that pulled his attention, loud and boisterous, given liberally and with abandon. Watching Ichigo, eyes bright and smile incessant, drew him more than any comedic fight scene. 

There was a lull, the movie dimming - night scene. Ichigo brought his legs up to tuck them in tight, which pushed him to lean a bit towards Kisuke. 

“I should thank you,” he said, voice low. And because Kisuke was watching him and not the movie he heard it. 

“Thank me?” His brain spun around the myriad reasons Ichigo could have to feel indebted to him and came up short. 

“I defended my thesis today,” he said, casually as breathing. “I passed.”

Even Kisuke knew how big a deal that was. “You - you what!? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ichigo chuckled. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

Only Ichigo, blasted Ichigo, would think it no big deal. Ok maybe against the destruction of existence as they knew it, it was but -  _ still _ . “Not a big deal! You’ve been invading my space for over a year!” He bit his lip, worried that had come out resentful but he needn't have worried. Ichigo gave him a shameless grin. “Weren’t you nervous?” Kisuke added lamely.

“Not really. It was nothing to fighting Aizen. Plus, I had your help.” At the word  _ your _ Ichigo looked at Kisuke, but it was  _ a look _ ; up through his his lowered lashes, eyes piercing. Kisuke’s mouth went dry. 

So slowly time seemed to loose meaning, Ichigo lifted an arm to settle on the back of the sofa behind Kisuke’s head. Fingers brushed tentatively over his shoulder, then moved to flutter the loose hair over Kisuke’s ear. Flames shot through him. 

“I-” Kisuke’s voice rasped so he licked his lips and was about to try again. 

“Don’t do that-” Ichigo teased, his voice still low, still clawing at Kisuke’s heart. 

“Do what?”

“Lick your lip like that. It’s torture.”

Maybe- Kisuke’s brain began calculating, re-examine everything he’d classified as flirting in the kitchen. 

Ichigo leaned further towards him, fingers sliding into Kisuke’s hair. “Don’t do that, either.”

Kisuke gave him a confused face. 

“Don’t think so loud, for once,” Ichigo clarified. The hand went from teasing his hair to sliding up against his head, cupping it as his arm lowered down to rest across Kisuke’s nape. “It’s always too intimidating.”

Kisuke had to stop this - had to stop  _ him  _ before - before-

But Ichigo kept moving, inching forward so slowly that Kisuke had all the time he needed to move away. He was helpless against Ichigo’s gaze. 

He’d never been able to deny Ichigo anything. 

The moment before Ichigo got too close, Kisuke’s eyes fluttered closed and lips pressed against him, as sweet and tart as he’d imagined. And soft. But demanding. Everything that was Ichigo. 

As slowly as it began, it ended with a sudden gasp, Ichigo pulling back to look at him. “I promised myself I’d do that, finally, after I passed,” he whispered.

Kisuke’s brain still refused to splutter to life. Ichigo went still and pulled back a bit more, eyes full of worry as they met his. “I’m sorry was that wrong? You didn’t pull back and I - I should have asked, I’m sorry-”

“It’s ok, Ichi,” Kisuke managed, the world spinning gently around them. “It’s ok, but it’s probably best not to do that again.” Ichigo crumpled and Kisuke felt the edge of a knife dance on his heart. “I don’t mind a bit of practice but you really should save it for someone you really like.”

Ichigo laughed. Not a chuckle, not a titter, an all out guffaw. “Kisuke,” he gasped and he pressed a finger to his eyes as if staunching tears. “Kisuke for a genius you’re a moron.”

“Unh?” An inarticulate moron, apparently. 

“Kisuke I’ve liked you for years. The thesis was - well not an excuse because I really  _ did _ need your help. I really couldn’t have done it without you. But - getting here every day has been a bitch, not gonna lie. I just - I’ve liked you, well I don’t even know how long I’ve liked you but its a  _ really _ long time and …” he looked away, as though suddenly unsure, anxious, “I told myself that if I got through this program I’d finally be grown up enough, finally be good enough. I just had to finish it and I could tell you, show you, could-” he ran out of words. 

The world realigned in an instant and Kisuke moved forward to press a soft, tentative ghost of a kiss against Ichigo’s cheek. “Do-” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Do you want to stay over?”

Ichigo laughed again. “I thought you said I talk in my sleep-” 

“I’ll let you sleep in the bed.” 

Ichigo gasped and Kisuke felt a hot flush rush across his cheeks. To hide it he pressed against Ichigo again with another kiss, and another. Bringing his hands up, he cupped Ichigo’s face, heart racing at the sound of Ichigo’s tiny whimpers. He broke off the kissing, head spinning, to let them catch their breath. 

“Are you sure?” Ichigo asked and in answer Kisuke kissed him again. 

For so long- he realized - he’d been dying of thirst, but now he would drink his fill.


End file.
